


Rendezvous with the Past

by lasairfhiona



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasairfhiona/pseuds/lasairfhiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Has a lot on his mind after a visit from Adamley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rendezvous with the Past

As the doors closed behind Alan Adamley, Leo's first instinct was to have a drink. A reflex honed by years spent looking into the bottom of a glass as a way of escaping that which he didn't want to face. His second was to go talk to Jed, but he couldn't do that either. His old friend would ask questions he didn't want to answer and he didn't need any other ghosts from 'Nam raising their ugly heads, too many were already making their presence known. Ghosts of friends lost to an enemy's bullet, ghosts of people who he cared about but couldn't face for fear of bringing up what he had tried so hard to bury.

Shrugging on his overcoat, Leo headed out of the West Wing. He paused near his car but with a tap of his fingers on the hood of his silver BMW, he turned away from it. Nodding at the guard, he followed the wrought iron fence bordering the south lawn. When he reached the bottom of the lawn, Leo stopped and looked back at the White House with the few tourists gathered, taking a moment to see the awe of the White House through their eyes before continuing on. With no real destination in mind he wandered through the Elipse remembering when the quiet park had teamed with tourists and protestors over the years. The city was quiet now, as it should be on a Sunday evening. The late afternoon rainstorm had driven most of the tourists inside and the few people who still milled around had figured out the secret of the nation's capital. It was at its best at night with the monuments glowing against the night sky.

'Civilian target. Eleven dead. War is a crime.' kept running through his mind even as he tried to shake the memory of the exploding bridge or dam as Alan had informed him it had been. How was he supposed to live with himself knowing what he'd done? How did he reconcile his actions with his belief that those perpetrating a crime against the innocent civilians of a country should be held accountable? A belief he'd held firm since returning from Vietnam for over thirty years ago.

When he reached Constitution Avenue and the Second Division Memorial, he knew where his subconscious was directing him. It should have surprised him, but it didn't. Where else would he go on a night like this with the information he'd been given but to visit the ghosts of his past? To try to reconcile what Alan had told him.

Traffic was light at this time of night and it wasn't long before he could cross the normally busy highway. He wandered along the lit pathway then cut in on one of the others so he could walk along the reflecting pool. He'd forgotten though, they had mostly drained the pool when they started work on the World War II memorial. Even without the pool to reflect its magnificence, the Lincoln Memorial still captured and held your attention. Leo stopped for a moment and listened to the faint sounds of a saxophone echoing off the marble before turning to walk along a dimly lit path toward his destination.

Leo paused for a moment when he saw the Women in Vietnam Memorial, remembering the many nurses and Red Cross Volunteers that crossed his path during his tour of duty. He looked at the bronze figures and thought how alive they looked. He ran a finger along the cold metal closing his eyes for a moment he could see their faces. 

Dana, the tough as nails nurse from New York City who ran the makeshift emergency room. She was the only woman he'd ever known who had no problems drinking him under the table. She'd always told him it was because of her four older brothers and her need to keep up with them. There had been many nights when they sat at the makeshift bar and nursed a few beers while talking about their childhoods. It was those nights he heard about the antics of her and her brothers or the story book romance between her and her new York City Policeman, husband that started when they were in high school. Then there were the nights she got him drunk on purpose, those were the nights after hard days he wanted to forget. Those were the nights he ended up in someone else's arms.

Those arms belonged to Emily. The petite doctor with flaming red hair that looked like some wood sprite come alive but ruled the trauma ward with an iron fist. Leo, however, knew the truth. Underneath that tough exterior was a gentle woman who took every death that occurred on her shift to heart. There had been many nights they spent wrapped in each other's arms. It started as a comfort thing, when one of her patients died or he'd lost a friend but it turned into something more.

Then there was Jane. Sweet Jane. She left the ranch in Texas where she'd grown up, gone straight to nursing school and then to Vietnam. Her mother had been a nurse in World War II and she was following in her footsteps. She believed she could save the world if she tried hard enough. She could make him, all of them, smile with just her way of going about life. She radiated hope and infused it in everyone who crossed her path making the hell hole they lived in a little better even if it was just for a while.

Circling the statue one more time, Leo never noticed the woman sitting on the bench furthest from the light. Nor did he notice how she watched him.

Finally, he took the path that would lead him to the wall. He had a perfect view of the Washington Monument as it rose above the mall, it's gleaming shape almost glowing, as he walked along the hill before turning down the subtly lit path. He watched as the shiny etched black surface grew larger along with the names. He stopped at the one spot he knew by heart. He'd found this name before he found any of the others he knew who hadn't come home. This one was special. Reaching out he traced each letter then rested his hand across her name. Jane Sinclair. She was hell bent on doing what she could to help the innocents caught up in the war. She'd left on a mission of mercy to treat local children when the motorcade she was part of was bombed. Charlie didn't care they were killing women. Nurses, doctors, Red Cross volunteers, and nuns. All that mattered to the Vietcong was that Americans lost their lives.

Jane's death was the one on his mind when he talked to the President about the War Crimes Tribunal. Punishing those who had killed her mattered to him. It had always mattered to him and now he finally was in a position to do something about it. Until Alan Adamley showed up that is. How could he continue to fight for justice for the dead when he was no better than those who killed Jane? He'd killed innocent people, just as Charlie had killed Jane.

Her name was at eye level and when he couldn't face it knowing what he now knew about himself, he rested his head against the cold stone. The engraving cutting into his forehead as tears silently rolled down his cheek. He cried for Jane and the potential that was stolen and he cried for the eleven on the dam.

He barely noticed the hand softly settling on his shoulder. The quiet voice with the Boston accent saying his name had him looking up into moss-green eyes he hadn't seen in thirty-five years.

"Emily?" he sputtered more questioning to make sure he was seeing who he thought he was than greeting her.

"What happened, Leo? What made you finally grieve for her?"

It didn't faze him she would ask that question. She'd listened to his anger and patched up his raw fists as he took that anger out on the sides of trucks and any solid object that wouldn't hit him back. She'd also been there to tuck him into bed after Dana had gotten him drunk in hopes of getting him to loosen the iron tight grip he had on his grief. She knew he'd never cried for Jane, he'd never let himself grieve for the young woman he'd taken under his wing. "I found out I am no better than the bastards who killed Jane," he finally said turning away so he couldn't see her reaction to his revelation.

"Oh Leo," she sighed wrapping her arms around his waist as he continued to silently cry. "You are so much better. You recognize what is right and wrong. They didn't," she soothed.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked slipping his hands inside her open coat to settle on her waist. He wanted to know what fueled her conviction. 

"My ex-husband is on the hill. He called me about the War Crimes thing. I guess he wanted my take on it," she explained. She took his face between her hands so he couldn't turn away from her. "I know the metal you are made of. I know that even if you were ordered to do things you don't want to do that you aren't like them. I'm guessing some bastard thought it would be prudent to dredge up something from your past to manipulate you into taking their side against having a war crimes tribunal."

He turned and kissed her palm before pulling her against him. Just holding her remind him of days long ago and the many times they had been in each other's arms. She was right. She knew the metal he was made from. She'd known it by instinct the first time they met and she knew it now. They had shared so much during their time in country and he could honestly say he'd loved her then. But when he returned stateside he never used the address she'd given him. For some reason he didn't want to, couldn't, see anyone who reminded him of a place he wanted to put behind him. "Yeah," was all he was able to choke out, his cheek resting against hers.

She pulled back, just far enough so she could gently kiss him before completely pulling away and taking his hand. "Come on. I'm staying at the Hay Adams across from the White House. Let's go indulge in room service and get caught up."

Leo took a good look at her. She was just as beautiful now as a mature woman as she was when they were barely out of college. This afternoon his past had come and bit him on the ass and tonight he was having a rendezvous with a part of his past that could have been his future once upon a time. Looking once more at Jane's name he tightened his grip on Emily's hand and allowed her to lead him away from the past.


End file.
